


Scary-oke

by INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon



Series: The King of Fertile Earth [1]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, God-power, Karaoke, Lust, Mortality, Seduction, Strange-form Intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-02 13:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21162236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon/pseuds/INeedMoreHadesBeforeISwoon
Summary: Hades lost a bet. Zeus collects, and Hades has to perform at a karaoke night....In the mortal realm.





	1. Performance

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own or have any claim to the characters as depicted in Lore Olympus by Rachel Smythe. I also do not own or have any claim on the original lyrics of Blake Shelton's "God's Country."
> 
> I hope you like this! 
> 
> Happy Halloween!

“I. Don’t. Believe. Those. Idiots!”

His voice was rumbling and snarling with the anger, and Persephone wondered how she could turn this around to her advantage.

“Hades, it’s just karaoke! And you did lose the bet, it’s only fair!”

“It’s not  _ just _ karaoke, sweetness…. You have no idea what they’ve done….”

He sounded scared, and she really began to worry, more than when he’d been caught tight in his temper just moments before.

“Hades…?”

He groaned, leaning forward over the steering wheel as his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Sweetness, they…. It won’t be karaoke in Olympus….”

“Oh, are they coming down here?! Why does that worry you…?”

“Noooooooooo….”

She racked her brain, trying to fit the pieces together….

“Hades…. Are they taking you to a karaoke night in the mortal realm…?”

His moaning groan was answer enough.

* * *

“Come on, old man! Buck up, this is gonna be a blast!”

Hades just glared at Zeus, hating that the glasses he was wearing to “complete his look” reduced the effectiveness of his temper. His normally silver hair was now a sun-kissed deep-brown, hanging mussed over his forehead and distracting him.He knew the color in his eyes had been spelled back to a shining black jet behind those large-framed spectacles. 

The slender brown fingers wrapped lovingly in his own now-tanned hand drew his attention from his idiot brother, and he stared, enraptured, into his wife’s altered face. Her eyes, large as always, were a brilliant spring-y green, and her wavy hair was a bright auburn, firey and tempting and oh-so-different. Her lips were painted with a berry-ripe red, her skin was dark, a brown like cinnamon sticks or teak-wood, and he felt his pants tighten slightly as the charming imagery captured his attention wholly. 

“I mean, come on, at least up here, you don’t have a reputation to lose! I’m doing you a favor, bro!” Zeus blinding white grin lit up his porcelain skin, his white-blonde hair like lightning in the flickering neon as they approached the bar paneled in dark colors under the full moon overhead. Cicadas and the roar of bullfrogs resounded through the muggy night, but not nearly drowning the wailing from some drunken voice within the confines of the rank-smelling little building. 

Poseidon lunged past Zeus to sling open the screen door, his black hair decorated liberally with blue and green painted streaks swinging freely in loose ringlet curls, the gold bands on his fingers winking in the buzzing lights covering the windows to either side. 

The four camouflaged immortals entered the dive bar, and Hades grinned a little wolfishly as he got closer and closer to his vengeance. 

* * *

Zeus came back from the bar, a bottle of dark liquid and four glasses clinking in his arms, cradling them across his chest.

“Alright, old man, you’re next on the list! I can’t believe you won’t tell me what you’re gonna sing for us! I’m soooooo put out, I don’t think you deserve any firewater until you spill the beans!”

Poseidon chuckled absently, staring across the room at a blonde beauty wearing a tied-off flannel and Dukes; the woman tossed her hair behind her shoulder with a pink-tipped finger, and Persephone reached out quickly to smack her brother-in-law behind his ear.

He turned around, sheepish, and smiled apologetically at his sister-in-law before butting into Hades’ spluttering reply. 

“Hey, Z-man, give him a drink. He’s gotta lubricate them pipes so he can serenade the bar for us!”

Zeus cackled, roaring with laughter, and thunder rolled ominously outside as he nearly let his camouflage slip. He sloshed some amber liquid into a dingy glass and slung it across the table to his fuming brother. 

“Yep, Posie’s right. You need all the help you can get, ya geezer!”

Hades growling anger went silent as the drunken hick held a wavering note at the end of his rendition of “On the road again,” and the crackle of the speakers began dominating the room over the murmur of quiet voices and occasional outbursts of raucous laughter. 

Hades looked into Persephone’s eyes, and he saw her excitement hot and heavy in those strangely-green orbs around wide black pupils. 

He knew his Queen was looking forward to this. The song and the surprise were all but her idea after all. 

And he would not deprive his Queen of her enjoyment….

He rose to his feet, pushing his glasses up his nose as he turned for the stage. He stepped up, barely a hitch in his stride, and turned to face the microphone on its wobbly stand. He reached into the breast pocket of his dark-navy blazer, pulling out the compact disc case to fling it like a frisbee toward the member of the staff stationed at the laptop at one end of the bar. 

He waited, fidgeting in mock nerves as he waited for the music he’d chosen with the help of his clever Queen to fill the smoky room from the crackling speakers. 

Finally, the haunting carole of a deep bronze bell resonated out into this mortal realm, followed by the metallic sounds of guitar strings building toward the first lines of descriptive emotional pleading….

He locked his eyes on Zeus, taking in a slow breath as he brought his hands up to wrap long fingers in an obviously sensual gesture around the microphone and the stand below. 

He let his voice whisper out on the words he’d chosen to put his idiot little brother in his place….

_ “Right outside o’ your golden town, _

_ There’s an old dirt road to a whole lotta nothin’....” _

The pause he’d worked into the flow of the music swallowed the moment, and he took another breath as he let a hint of his true self bleed out of him, drawing the attention of every being in this dingy little dive on the edge of a swamp….

_ “Got no deed to the land, and it ain’t your ground. _

_ That’s God’s country.” _

Another breath, another slow pause, and he shifted his weight to his left foot as he pulled his hands in a gentle caress from the mic stand, fingers trailing loosely along the metal shaft. 

He shifted his focus to the mortals staring rapt at him where he stood on the stage before them; they couldn’t have looked away, even if he wanted them to. 

They were his, now, and he loosened the chain around his power a little more as the bell’s haunting tone broke through the air once more. 

_ “You pray for rain, and thank ‘em when it’s fallin’, _

_ Cause it brings the grain and a little bit o’ money. _

_ You put back in the plate, I guess you didn’t know,  _

_ That was my country….” _

The memories swelled in his mind, and he let the emotions fuel his quietly rasping voice as he reached his hands into the air at his sides in mute appeal, demanding their attention, even though he already had it entirely.

_ “I saw the light in a moonrise _

_ Sitting back in the the 40 on the muddy riverside: _

_ Gettin' baptized, dark water and shine with the dogs runnin’.” _

The first time he saw Styx’s dark curls, winding like a river of darkness through the rocks and channels of Underworld’s mighty landscape, the pale moon glinting brightly as the sun rose in the mortal realm above, and Olympus above that. The misty rain that fell as he felt, beyond thought, beyond sense, that this was his land. His power. 

His kingdom….

_ “Saved by the sound of a been-found, _

_ Autumn whisper in the wind that’ll get ya hell-bound. _

_ The devil went up to Georgia but he ain’t gon’ stick around. _

_ That ain’t God’s country.” _

He started snatching his arms from his sleeves, tearing the buttons as he starting rocking one foot up and down on his toes, letting the hard angle of his hip mark each beat as the tempo of the song picked up slightly. He stared back and forth across the enraptured crowd of mortal farmers and laborers with a soft snarl lifting one corner of his lips in aggressive dominance.

_ “You turn the dirt, you work until the week’s done. _

_ You take a break, you break bread on Sunday . _

_ And then do it all again, cause you’re on your way to _

_ My country.” _

He let the power of his role as God of the Dead pulse out suddenly, loving the flinching unison of fear that rolled like a wave through the rapidly-paling faces below him. He snagged his blazer by the collar, bringing it up slowly over his head as the resonant rumble on his soundtrack built high before plummeting to the deep abyss of oblivion: he matched the sound with a rushing slam of his arm, swinging his jacket hard to the floor beneath him as he let go of even more control, feeling the power he hardly ever embraced fully rushing into him, filling him…. His voice began to grate hard, nearly hissing in snarls and growls as he tried to hold off the transformation that was coming, slowly, impossible to ignore and hard to delay as he fell deeper into potent memories of pleasure and pleasurable power.

_ “I saw the light in a moonrise _

_ Hidden back in the 40 on that muddy riverside, _

_ Gettin' baptized, dark water and shine with the hounds runnin’. _

_ Saved by the sound of a been-found _

_ Autumn whistle in the wind that’ll get ya hell-bound _

_ The devil's come up to Georgia but he ain’t gon’ stick around: _

_ This ain’t my country.” _

He took a quick breath in, his modified version of this mortal’s powerful song moving directly into the lines he had been aching to get to since he stepped onto the stage. 

_ “I don’t care what your headstone reads," _

He felt Persephone’s gasp from the middle of the room, knowing without looking that she would staring at him open-mouthed and wanting. 

_"Or what kinda pinewood box you end up in."_

He stared hard into the face of the mortal closest to the stage, bending at the waist as he started prowling toward that pale, bearded visage under a faded red ball-cap. 

_"When it’s your time you’ll be six feet deep...."_

He let his voice drop to a rumble of dark earth, shaded with raspy whispers and sultry feeling.

_"...In my country.”_

_ Power…. _

The panic exploded through the room as he let the black of galaxies pour into his skin. He rocked violently back to vertical, bringing his hands up in sharply-curled talons to run through his power-lifted hair. He all but screamed through the lines his soul demanded his speak, reveling for the first time in a long time in the power that was his and his alone as the oldest of the Gods, the first, the one who should have been highest and who had chosen to be King of the lowest of the realms….

Closer to the earth that spoke to him in fertile power and the darkness of possibilities.

_ “I saw the light in a moonrise _

_ Digging back in the 40 in that muddy riverside, _

_ Gettin' baptized, dark water and shade with my dogs runnin’!” _

He rolled his hips, feeling the untamed and untameable lust as he soaked up the power of fertile soil all over this mortal realm. He was the God of the Dead, the King of Fertile Earth, and if he had wanted it, this mortal realm could have been his, his alone, brothers be damned. 

But he had fallen in love with dark and bleak beauty, had been seduced by the need to care for those that otherwise would remain uncared for when their mortal time was done….

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy the power that came with being the object of their deadly dread. At least, not every once in a millennium. 

And his dark Queen, his Dread and Life: she rose from her chair as the mortals bowled past and around and over tables and chairs; her gaze was locked on him, he knew, but his eyes were closed, his head thrown back, as the power that could have been his beat through him, in him, out of him. 

Thunder crashed, wind whipped cold through the moss-hung trees in the swamp outside, and the air flashed hot and cold by turns as Aidoneus, God among Gods, King of the Underworld and Death that made Life possible, sang his heart through sharp teeth with a face black as the heart of the cosmos itself.

_ “Saved by the sound of a been-found _

_ Winter whistle in the wind that’ll get ya hell-bound! _

_ The devil’s up in Georgia and you know I’ll take ya down,  _

_ To MY COUNTRY!” _   
  


He panted heavily, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling from where he was leaning back at his waist, feeling his power swirling around his body in strands of dark smoke and starlight. He rolled slowly, sensually, upright to lean slightly forward as he felt his Queen making her way to him through the cold air of the abandoned dive bar. 

She floated, her own skin leaching of the mortal-tan coloring, back to floral pink and delicate fuschia. 

Her pink-lined eyes were hard-locked on his black-and-blacker voids, and her tongue caressed her lips in heated desire….

Life, found in Death….

He wrapped her close to his chest as she floated into his wide-outstretched arms….


	2. The King of Fertile Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Within, you will encounter aggressive alpha tendencies and threats of violence, as well as feral behavior and OBVIOUSLY NSFW CONTENT!
> 
> Proceed with caution; this ain't no mortal love story....

“WHAT THE  _ FUCK _ , HADES?!”

“Z-man, hey, come on, we don’t have to do this now….”

“I mean, HONESTLY, we bring you up here, to have a little fun, and you just…. I MEAN,  _ MAN _ , YOU AIN’T HAD TO COMPLETELY BLOW OUR COVER! That’s some dumb shit, Hades! I swear, you glory-hound….”

Hades held his glare over Persephone’s lengthening fuschia hair, his black-and-blacker eyes shining behind the fake-lenses of the glasses he’d been wearing to complete his mortal disguise. He felt his hair lifting behind and over his head, and he knew his teeth were sharp behind his panting lips. 

Persephone clung to his chest, still floating in the air, her fingers wrapping around the collar and neckline of his now-rumpled forget-me-not blue dress shirt. She, too, was glaring at Zeus, and Hades could feel her thorny red vines beginning to creep through her hair. He knew her eyes would be shifting to a deep bloody red in her magenta face, and he felt his cock twitch heartily at the thought of his Dread Queen’s wrath and ire. 

Poseidon raised himself from his chair, his ring-bound fingers reaching toward Zeus’ stiff arm, ignoring the sparks and crackles that lit the white sweater’s sleeve with static and power. “Zeus, hey, come on. We really don’t have to do this. It’s done, the mortals were all drunk, they’ll probably just laugh it off in the morning as Halloween-y jitters….”

Lightning arced down outside the dive bar, throwing dirt and cigarette butts into the air to rain down over the tin of the porch’s roof like soft hail.

“MORTALS DO NOT LAUGH AT US!”

And Zeus shot toward Hades with plasma sparking between his fingertips and his eyes turning an electrified purple with rage and indignant wrath. 

* * *

Hades smirked as his idiot littlest brother lost his temper. 

_ Power…. _

He turned his body to smoke, the glasses falling to the floor as he disappeared, materializing in front of his Queen immediately. His hand shot forward as he rematerialized into cohesive flesh, claw-like fingers digging into the tendons around Zeus’ convulsing throat. 

Poseidon was frozen at the table they’d claimed earlier in the night, his eyes a tear-wet jade as his older and younger brother clashed, thunder rolling outside the bar and a cold wind billowing through the moss-hung trees. 

Hades let his tongue writhe demonically as he leaned closer to Zeus; the power of this fertile realm’s dark earth pulsing through his body like whiskey, like ambrosia, like lust….

“_I _**_had_** _fun, little brother. More fun than I’ve had in years…. But you really should remember which one of us has always been the responsible one…. Glory-hound…? Who is it that demands tribute of wine and women every time he puts in an appearance? It’s not me, brother mine._

_ “You should show a little more respect to your eldest brother…. You only ruled Olympus because I didn’t care to…. Now, I expect that, since coming here was your idea, you’ll make sure this place is cleaned up for the mortals in the morning…. I’m sure Poseidon can show you what to do with a broom…. _

_ “Happy Halloween, little brother….” _

He bent his elbow, tight, before he thrust his hand sharply forward. His nails left tiny gouges in the skin of his brother’s flushed throat as he tossed the idiot away from him, loving the crumpling crash as Zeus collided with the flickering faceplate of the jukebox. 

He hissed out a laugh as he wrapped his other arm around Persephone’s still floating body and took them both through smoke and mist to an elsewhere where they could be alone….

* * *

Persephone gasped, hard, as her King rematerialized them beneath a gnarled cypress tree somewhere in the depths of a night-dark swamp. The sound of cicadas and the roars of bullfrogs, even the distant haunting cry of a loon, were overwhelming, loud in the dark of the muggy night. His long nose was combing back and forth over the top of her head, and she felt the heat pouring off his body from every inch where their skin was touching. His skin was still the black of the mighty cosmic expanses so high and far above, and she could not really see him in this black neverwhere of a fertile swamp. 

But oh, how she could feel him….

He had never been this way with her. Oh, sure, she’d been with him in this galactic form before, but never in the mortal realm. Only in the dark of their bedroom, candles flickering seductively on the ethereal flesh of a mighty god-King with all the power of the cosmos at his beck and call. 

But he’d told her, once, long ago, decades really, that the power he’d given up when he claimed the Underworld as his was a potent thing, and one day, he’d like to share that with her. 

The last part of himself, held in reserve for eons, waiting for the right moment….

And this was that moment. 

She remembered the way he’d explained it to her, every word. She’d memorized them, waiting to see, to understand….

“ _ It should have been me, sweetness. It could have, and I would have reveled in it. My father, King of Harvest. My mother, Queen of Life’s Bounty. I, Fertile Earth, possibilities and fruits…. _

_ “But I chose…. Or, well, the Underworld…. It chose me. But one day, just once, I’d like to pretend…. I’d like to be the King of Fertile Earth, with you, my Life-giving Queen….” _

It wasn’t a day, but this was gonna be that night, for damn sure….

“Hades, Aidoneus, my King….”

The hiss of air that left his panting mouth sounded alien to her ears. She wondered if he was beyond words, lost in the heady pleasure of this power he’d given up for bleak and haunting beauty and an immortal existence full of responsibility for the souls of mortals passed into his keeping. She decided it didn’t matter. 

She could love him even if never spoke again….

“My King, do you feel this earth beneath our feet….?”

He growled, the sound so animal and Other that her knees immediately trembled, even though she was still floating, hovering in his arms above this damp, boggy ground. But she felt the power that so mimicked hers reaching for him. She could always feel the life in the soil, even in Underworld’s dreary wastes, and here, now, she knew he could feel it, too….

And she wondered vaguely whose power was mimicking whose.

“Do you feel the potential, the life, in every iota?”

Another growl, even deeper and rumbling more fully through the expanses behind his ribs. The sky overhead, dark and lit faintly by the still-rising harvest moon, echoed the sound; thunder rolled dark and brooding, expectant and pregnant with possibilities, as her King of Fertile Earth, of the Darker Side of Life Itself, embraced his power under her gentle guidance.

“My King, be with me….”

His sharp-cut lips crashed around her own, and she didn’t mind the drop of blood that smeared her tongue as one of his teeth cut her lip.

It tasted of Life and the possibilities brought about by Death….

His hands tightened around her waist, and he fell to his knees, leaning forward to lay her beneath him on this boggy soil full of the remnants of life well-lived. Her hair spread out above her head, small green shoots writhing up through the pink locks as her power began to pour out of her as she lost control. He was still kissing her, and she felt like she was drowning.

And happy to do it….

His hands left her ribs, clawing down and around to find the buttons binding her skirt to her skin. She brought her hands to the buttons at her collar, trying to fiddle them into submission as her mind went foggy from lack of air. 

A snarling growl had him breaking away from the kiss, leaving her gasping, and his eyes flashed with a violent red through the black of a cosmic void as he grew impatient. Fabric tore under his claws, and her skirt was flying away to land somewhere on an oleander bush. Buttons went pinging into the muddy water downhill from their boggy bank as he took out his frustration on her blouse as well. And then sharp teeth were nibbling at the mounded flesh of her breasts, and she couldn’t think past the pulsing pleasure, her hands thrown above her head to tangle in her hair as he devoured her sensitive skin. 

She lost herself for a time, until one sharp-tipped finger flicked across the bud between her legs. 

She screamed as the pleasure broke over her unexpectedly, and then there was a damply-cool breeze as his body left hers; the shock had her eyes flying open as she twitched through the aftershocks, and she let the anger at being left wanting go as she saw why he’d done it. 

He was standing before her, the mud on the cuffs of his sleeves and the knees and lower legs of his slacks shining wetly in the faint moonlight shining down through the cypress branches above. His pointed black fingers were making slow work of the buttons on his shirt, but the devilish smirk on his sharp-toothed smile made it clear that it was completely intentional. The last button was  _ finally _ released, and he peeled the damp cloth from around his shoulders, rolling every one of his muscles under night-black skin speckled with trails of stars and dusty nebulous clouds of light….

She licked her lips, wanting, waiting, craving….

He snatched the shirt off his left arm, slinging it in the same motion to his right; she thought it may have landed somewhere near the oleander bush that held the remnants of her skirt, but she certainly wasn’t gonna look away. 

Not when his hands were nimbly twitching over the buttons on the waistband of his trousers, then moving down with the tell-tale zzzzzzpppp sound of the cage being released….

She rocked her torso up onto her elbows just a little, too eager to wait passive on the muddy ground of his unchosen realm, as he thrust his hands down, the fabric pooling around his ankles as he stood, bare, before his Queen.

She hadn’t realized he’d gone commando tonight….

She licked her lips again, a compliment of a mewling moan humming out of her chest as his midnight-blue cock twitched in the humid air….

He stepped out of his puddled slacks, prowling toward her like the King he had always been, and she lowered her weight off her elbows once more as he came over the top of her, his hair lifting in the currents of power that poured off him, through him, into this realm of fertile earth and possibilities, into her….

He brought his lips to hers again, but his teeth were gentle and his tongue sooooo soft now, as he captured her gasp. 

No matter how often they did this, she was never too loose for him when he first entered her body….

No matter how often they did this, he was always just that little bit too large, and she loved every twinge and stretch and pulse as her body was forced to accommodate his girth, length, weight….

Made for her, and she would never get enough….

She wrapped her legs around his hips, digging her heels into the top of his butt, and he began rocking into her. She loved the push, the pull, the ask and answer. Every motion, every breath, every gasp and scrape and mewl and whimper and moan and soft cry that they shared….

The power flowing out of him, she recognized it now…. She’d felt hints of it before, usually in the autumn and winter, when his power as God of the Dead was at its peak. She had never really made the connection, had always assumed he was just more passionate when she could spend the long months with him, around the times when she had to be away in the mortal realm, weeks at a time, keeping her mother from going nuclear and punishing the mortals for her daughter’s love of the King of the Underworld. But now: now she had a new perspective….

Where most fertility deities had their focus on the making of new life, of growing new things from an excess of energy, his power stemmed from the dead things that literally made life possible. All the rot and decay singing to him in this swamp, the reason he’d been so drawn to the Underworld with its opposing forces to the life of the mortal realm and Olympus above: it  _ was _ his power. Death, Dead things: the only things that made the renewal of life possible….

He truly was a fertility god, the only one of his kind, and he was hers….

She growled softly as she realized he would continue in this sweet-slow torture of love-making, lost as he was in his power and ensuring she found pleasure….

She wanted more.

She growled, and he broke from the kiss with a heavy gasp. She jerked her feet hard against his butt, forcing him deeper into her body with the sudden movement. She let her eyes flash red, and knew he would get the message. 

He growled, too, and began pounding her into the muddy bog beneath their bodies with abandon. 

His teeth were sharp against her neck, her ear, her cheek and lips, but it was all sensation; he never once broke the skin and the pain that was hardly even there faded under the pounding pulsing from her core. His pushed himself onto his hands, locking his elbows as he chased his climax, and she locked her own hands around his forearms, feeling the trembling in his muscles as he strove not to come completely undone enough to fall and crush her.

She wouldn’t mind being crushed….

But none of it mattered. All that mattered was the air rushing in and out of their lungs on gasping snarling pants, and the slick-melty feeling between their thighs. 

She felt the head of his dick swell slightly inside her, twitching violently as his hips stuttered in their furious pace, and she clamped down on him, once, loving the way his head fell forward and his shoulders tensed as he groaned, so hard and needy and powerful, releasing into her depths with a final punishing push….

She bucked her hips a little as the heat of him flooded her, the sensation triggering her own climax; she trembled a little over her whole body as the muddy ground beneath her back suddenly felt cold. 

She kneaded her fingers into his still-taut forearms as his skin began to fade to his normal hydrangea blue, letting him come back to himself as the power he’d never fully embraced until this night bled out of his body into the soil beneath them….

Finally, he looked up at her, his lower lip held tight behind his teeth, and he looked a little sheepish. She cocked one eyebrow up at him, asking  _ why _ without the need for words….

His voice was hoarse, as if he’d been screaming for hours, or sobbing….

“I think you’ll need to wear my shirt home, lover….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aiiiight, Watermelone, hope I did that god-clash justice for you!
> 
> Now, yes, I decided to try to give y'all a little taste of the South down here. Cypress trees are obviously one of Hades' traditional sacred trees, and they are definitely a trademark of the South. While I live in Arkansas, I've played around the deep-south, the bayous of SoLa and yes, Georgia too. So, I decided that Hades and Perse would make this muggy-hot night even hotter in a secluded cypress glade with slow-rolling muddy water and cicadas and bullfrogs and lonely nightbirds singing theirnight-dark songs....
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed a little taste of the South, and I'm considering continuing this - after H'ween, maybe - with further Fertile Earth sexytimes....
> 
> I'd love to know if y'all wanna see that!

**Author's Note:**

> If you're anything like me, you love the non-human power and somewhat feral aspects of the fact that these characters ARE NOT HUMAN! THEY ARE GODS! 
> 
> I also really wanted to bring in the aspect of Hades' self in some versions of the myths, where he is actually a fertility god. He embodies the fertile potential of well-composted earth, of the benefits gained by rotting decay. You cannot have a healthy harvest without fertile soil, and Hades is somewhat entwined with that concept. 
> 
> Which is why he will always end up with his Goddess of Spring. Neither one of them can exist without the other. 
> 
> They are complete in each other, and their power is at its utmost when they share their passion....


End file.
